Elysian

by Addison Moore

  “Oh, this so awful.” She tucks her face against his chest for a moment. “Thank you so much for helping my daughter like this. She means the world to me.”

  I swallow hard. It looks as if “helping me” is just another way Demetri is utilizing to bring his game. And now my mother is his for the asking.

  “Have you spoken to Darla regarding the details of our upcoming nuptials?” He smears his words with a satisfied smile.

  Mom cringes as if Demetri’s wedding were as disgusting as Chloe’s graveyard antics.

  “I think”—she spears Demetri with a disgruntled look—“some of the ornaments Darla insists on having will takes months to ship from overseas. You may have to postpone the wedding. You wouldn’t want to upset your bride.”

  “I’ll help you get them!” I volunteer. “You can get all kinds of crap shipped next day air, and Demetri’s loaded, so money is obviously no object.”

  “That’s right, Skyla,” he says never taking his eyes off my mother. “I’m sure you could help expedite the project. I have no doubt you’ll have all of Darla’s wishes granted by the time next summer rolls around.” He twirls his fingers in a sinister wave as he heads back toward ground zero where Kate openly gapes at her once-upon-a-classmates.

  “It’s just not right,” Mom whispers.

  “I know. It’s sick and twisted, and I’m not going to be made to look like a fool anymore.”

  Mom opens her mouth then closes it. “Oh, that head thing.” She pulls her lips back in disgust.

  That head thing? She’s acting as if it were every day that severed heads rained down on Paragon. Figures. The only thing “not right” to Mom is the fact Demetri is getting hitched to someone other than her.

  The baby starts to squirm and grunt. Mom hoists him in the air and sticks her nose in his bottom.

  “I’ll catch you back at the house,” she says, peeling the pants off Drake’s firstborn. Little does she know there will be a lot more Landon butt sniffing for her in the not-so-distant future. “Do you think I could use the bathroom in the gym?”

  “Sure, go ahead. Chloe is in there now. Maybe Beau can drop something else that’s unexpected on her head and really finish off my night.”

  She makes a face. “I’d really like to see Chloe and you settle your differences.”

  Mom jogs off while plucking and pulling at baby Beau’s accouterments.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. Chloe and I will work everything out,” I whisper into the wind.

  Once Chloe is dead, all our differences will be settled and buried.

  ***

  The school officials decide, with all their authoritative capacity, that Kate’s head be damned, the dance shall go on.

  I speed home and do a quick change for homecoming. Marlena’s dress fits as if it was made for me, and this naturally raises my suspicions. I can’t help but stare at how freaking hot it is. It’s got that whole naughty corset thing going on up top, complete with sexy laces that make their way up my back and an almost barely-there skirt that plumes out in a puff of midnight tulle.

  “Sweet,” I say as I spin for Snowball—as if that blob of feathers actually cares what I wear tonight. Anyway, Brielle and I were going to help each other get dressed, but she had to get back to the field to take pictures for yearbook. Principal Rice was nice enough to let them have a do-over after the coroner took off with Kate’s remains.

  Once I stop admiring Marlena’s fashion sense, I spend an inordinate amount of time applying Halloween worthy amounts of makeup, finishing my lips off with a pink-tinted gloss.

  “I look like a Barbie.” I give a smirk into the mirror before wiping off the gloss and applying a blood red lipstick, dry and heavily pigmented.

  “I look like a hooker.” I wrinkle my nose and wipe it off before reapplying the pink gloss I started out with. Everything needs to be just right. I really want to finish this night off with good memories, unlike the grotesque filth Chloe decided to impinge upon the entire island.

  There’s a light peck against my bedroom window, and I see the flap of ebony wings expanding on the other side. I let Nev in and watch as he glides around the cage set in the corner, inciting my psychotic little pet into a fit of seizures.

  “OK, we get it, you’re bigger and better—and you’ve got your freedom. You can knock it off, now. It’s bad enough Tad hates that thing. No offense, Snowball.”

  Nev lands softly on my bed, and I bounce onto the mattress next to him.

  “What’s up?”

  I’m to monitor you this evening.

  “Per whose instruction?” I’m secretly hoping it’s a direct order from my mother. I hate that I’m getting the cold shoulder from her.

  Master Oliver.

  “Which one?”

  My former employer.

  “That’s sweet of Gage, but I’m not sure you can protect me against Chloe. I need that pendant back, Nev. Tell Ezrina I need to brainwash Chloe into gifting it to me, or too many people I love will be hurt.”

  Sounds like an impossible situation. But I’ll pass on the word in the event there’s a remedy.

  A light knock emits over my door, and Nev hops right out the window.

  “Come in.”

  The door swings open revealing a drop-dead gorgeous, no pun intended, Logan Oliver, clad in a black suit and shiny white tie. My stomach bottoms out at the sight of him.

  “Please come in.” I speed over to him and lock my door behind him. “God, are you ever freaking gorgeous!”

  “And you’re amazingly beautiful.” He holds me out by the hands and drinks me in with those golden chalice eyes. “Damn, Skyla, you do not fight fair.”

  “Who says I’m fighting you?” I hike up on my tiptoes and land a careful kiss right over his lips. There. I did it. Every part of me exhales from that one simple kiss.

  “Skyla.” My name bleeds from his lips like an eleventh hour plea.

  “I love you, Logan Oliver.” It feels safe like this in my bedroom, declaring my love for Logan all over again.

  “I love you, too.” Logan crashes his lips over mine, and we greedily indulge in one hell of a lingual exchange as his tongue glides over mine. It feels fervent, rushed, and yet achingly regulated as if we were holding back from the things we wished we could do with our bodies.

  Screw homecoming, I say. Let’s lock ourselves in the butterfly room and do this all night—more than this.

  A gentle laugh rumbles through his chest. I knew telling you I was dead would only make you love me more, he teases. But I won’t let you miss your final homecoming dance. And anything more than this, you should probably do with Gage. But selfishly I’ll accept every kiss you’re willing to give me.

  “Logan!” I pull back, shocked he’d say something like that. “Stop. I want this. I want us.”

  “I know.” He glances down, remorseful we even went there. “Believe me, I want us, too.” He locks his fiery gaze over mine. “Gage is going to love you one day, Skyla, in the exact way that I wish I could,” he presses the words out with a patina of grief.

  My eyes seal themselves shut. I shake my head, too afraid if I try to say anything the dam will break, and I’ll lose the false eyelashes I spent a half hour applying.

  Logan tightens his grip around my waist and settles his lips over my neck. He’s tasting me, savoring it for later.

  I love being privy to his thoughts, especially when his private musings involve the way I taste.

  “Hey, good news.” I pull back and give a little bounce.

  “You found a way to get that pendant?”

  “Boy, you’ve got a one track mind, and no. But I get to see my mother on my birthday. I’m going to have a nice long chat with my dear old Mom. And believe you me, I’ll be wheeling and dealing for the life of my most favorite Celestra.” I rattle his hand.

  “Count. I’m still pledged over to them.”

  “Unpledge.” I yank him in again, and his warm cologne swallows me whole. “Come back to the light,”
I tease.

  “As far as I know, it’s not possible.”

  “I’m so tired of dealing in impossibilities.” I pick up his hand and flex his fingers until Logan locks over me strong and sturdy.

  A loud bang rattles my door followed by Mom poking her head inside.

  “Why don’t you two come down for pictures?” She glosses over Logan and me with his arm around my waist, our hands in the air like we’re dancing, and frowns. “Be down in five.”

  “She wishes I were Gage,” Logan whispers as we head downstairs.

  “If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure Emma wishes I were anybody else.”

  He lets out a laugh as we walk into the family room.

  Chloe has the balls to smile while cozying up to Ethan in her less-than-stunning little blue dress.

  Drake, Emily, and Brielle form a rather odd circle on the other side of them.

  “You’re back!” I give Bree a hug. “Everything go OK?” I whisper.

  “Better than OK. Drake gave me some tongue while we were shooting the yearbook pictorial.”

  Disgusting.

  “Get a move on!” Tad crows at Logan and me while holding up his grocery store throwaway camera.

  Mia and Melissa come in, so I hand Mia my phone. At least I’ll have a real picture unlike Tad who’s too cheap to develop his.

  Logan and I squeeze in the middle, and both Mia and Tad snap away.

  “Oh, this reminds me,” I say to Logan while Em and Brielle prattle on about a baby’s feeding schedule, like either of them knows a thing about it. “You should totally go to the Gas Lab one day and teach Ethan a thing or two about business. He’s giving away free air and instant coffee.” Wow, it sounds utterly ridiculous coming from my mouth.

  Logan swallows down a laugh. “Air and instant coffee should never have a price tag.”

  “But we’ll never make any money,” I protest. “And we’ll have to shut the doors.”

  “Dude.” Logan shakes his head at Ethan. “You need real coffee—and some decent food to go with it.”

  “We’ve got cheese,” Ethan growls as if they’re about to throw punches.

  “Not cheese.” Logan shoots a sideways glance at my mother because he so knows that breasty offering was totally her idea. “Maybe cheese Danishes, but the regular kind. Get donuts, and maybe, eventually you can make them. There’s not a single donut shop on the island. You’d have the market cornered.”

  The room lights up with an approving gasp at Logan’s carbohydrate-laden genius.

  “This one’s a keeper, Skyla.” Tad marvels into Logan as if he were glazed and filled with molten gold, and he sort of is. “I vote we permanently kick the linebacker to the curb. We need a man with good business sense in the family. And free tickets to that bowling alley of his wouldn’t be a bad idea either.”

  I wrap an arm around Logan’s waist. Strangely it warms me to have Tad’s approval, although, in reality, it should be setting off all sorts of frantic bells and whistles.

  “Too bad he won’t be staying,” Chloe coos while sticking her bottom lip out. “But I’m sure Skyla will find someone else to fill his shoes—perhaps someone older and more scholastically inclined.”

  The pendant glows off her smooth brown skin, her pale blue dress looks eerily reminiscent of the one she wore the night I hoisted her off the planet.

  Good God—is that the same dress?

  “Where are you going, Logan?” Mom asks, casually unbuttoning her blouse and unhitching a small cotton patch on her bra until her bare pink nipple is exposed.

  Logan glances away.

  “I’m sure Chloe is talking about college,” he says. “But I plan on staying as close to Skyla as possible.”

  “I’m sure Gage will take very good care of her.” Chloe continues to chide him. Odd how she killed him, claimed to feel bad, and now she’s rubbing salt in his wound. “Don’t you think so?” She steps into him as her chest quivers with a silent laugh. “Gage always did have a special thing for Skyla. I guess they’re just meant to be.”

  Logan shoots hate-filled lasers at that sniveling smirk of hers. I swear it looks like he’s ready to spit in her face.

  Brielle hops over with her shiny gold dress, her sparkling rainbow heels.

  “You guys ready to go?” Bree squeals. “Last homecoming ever, can you believe it?”

  Chloe purses her lips and glares right at Logan. “A lot of things are coming to an end, Brielle.”

  The room drains as everyone heads for the door, and I pull Chloe back by the elbow.

  “Listen, bitch”—it hisses from me—“I didn’t appreciate the fact you loaded my car with body parts. And I sure as hell don’t appreciate you talking to Logan that way, especially since you put him in this predicament to begin with.”

  She fingers the protective hedge, and her gaze drifts past my shoulder into some faraway place. “He says he regrets ever giving this to me.” It comes out mechanical, disbelieving. “He was so close to wanting me, loving me.” She snaps out of her daze and glares into me “It was you, Skyla. It’s always you disrupting things for me on some level. I thought for sure if you didn’t come to Paragon—”

  “You tried to stop me from coming to Paragon?” Of course, she did. Why else would she kill my father? “Why didn’t you kill me, Chloe? Why build a body count when you could have gone straight to the source?”

  Chloe huffs a laugh and knocks hard into my shoulder on her way out the door.

  Chloe wanted to stop me from coming to Paragon.

  We head outside, and I catch a glimpse of Emily climbing into Drake’s car while Brielle waves to me from the backseat.

  Crap.

  Strange how Em sort of resembles Drake’s mom, though. I mean, not in a sick way, just the pale coloring, the dark wiry hair.

  Hey… Stella died in a car crash the same day my father died—same exact way.

  I glance over at Chloe as she files into Ethan’s sedan and wonder if in any way she’s responsible for that tragic “accident” as well.

  Logan wraps his arms around me and warms my bare skin.

  “Let’s get out of here and have some fun.” He seals it with a kiss right over my cheek.

  “We’re going to have a blast tonight. I promise.”

  I have a feeling Kate’s ghost will attest to that.

  ***

  The Paragon Beach Resort sparkles like cut crystal amidst the backdrop of the blackened ocean.

  Logan escorts me inside the palatial resort with his elbow linked through mine. It’s bright inside with its opulent carved marble décor. A pair of stone lions sit on either side of the entry, locked in their silent roars.

  A sea of freshly polished bodies mixes in the foyer, with most people drifting toward the Grand Ballroom to the left. Logan mentioned on the way over that Chloe didn’t upset him, but I can tell he was rattled after those comments about Gage. Speaking of the handsome devil, I spot him by the open mouth of the grand room talking to Ellis. Two girls slink by their sides, and, if I didn’t know better, I’d assume those were their dates. Gage looks smooth in his inky dark suit, his hair slicked back, and a trace of a goatee which I haven’t seen on him before. One of the girls looks up dreamily at him, laughing at whatever he’s telling Ellis, and my stomach bites with jealousy.

  “You hungry?” Logan pulls me in with a knowing look. A slightly amused smile rides on his lips.

  The scent of food mixed with perfume bombards our senses. I can see the buffet inside from where we’re standing, but thanks to Ellis and his bevy of hussies, I’ve lost my appetite.

  “Nope. You?”

  “I think I’ll skip right to dessert.” Logan nips my ear with his lips. “How about we hit the dance floor?”

  “Logan Oliver dances?” My mouth drops open. Logan is allergic to strutting his stuff unless the music drops to hip swaying octaves.

  “Yeah, well, you only get so many extensions on life.” He pulls me along until we bypass Gage and Ellis. I
give a brief wave, and Gage’s dimples wink at me.

  The overgrown ballroom is lit up with the same charming twinkle lights it had last year. It’s dim inside, and you can feel the heat of hundreds of bodies swirling on the dance floor. I spot Carly Foster and Carson Armistead from East. That’s one thing I won’t miss next year, mixing with the barbarians from East High. Although I guess if we all end up at Host, we’ll simply be stuck together for another four-year sentence.

  Logan pulls me deep into the crowd until we land in the middle of the jostling bodies. He sways into me, showing off his cool-as-hell dance moves, and I melt just watching him.

  Good God. Who knew the quarterback was capable of gliding his body over mine in such a sexy manner? Every girl in the vicinity has her eyes peeled on Logan and his slick contortions. My body explodes like a flare just watching. A heated vision comes to mind, Logan lying over me, trying out these same red-hot moves in a horizontal position. Song after song beats by, and Logan gets a little more brazen with each passing minute. Logan presses in with his hips grinding against my body. I can feel him, feel his hard bulge touching over my thigh, and a fire rakes over me. Logan swipes his fingers slow over my palm as he draws me into him, and I let out a groan as he strokes over my skin. A searing heat rips across my abdomen. Logan is lighting a blaze of passion. He’s waking up parts of me I never knew existed. His high cheekbones pick up the light, those molten eyes glow over my skin. Logan has a way of making me feel needed, desired in a ravenous, animalistic way.

  The rhythm slows, and the lights dim even further.

  Logan pulls me in tight and crushes his lips over mine for a moment, panting from the exertion we both put forth.

  “You are a machine,” I say, touching my searing skin to his.

  “God”—he breathes into my ear—“I hope I get the chance to love you like this every day, Skyla.” His heavy breathing sends a heated rush of pleasure up and down my spine.

  Logan and his earthshattering lust make me feel lightheaded, dizzy in a mysterious sexual way that I’ve never experienced before.